1
 
 
Dysanders walks through the Old City; rain falls steadily but softly as he strolls down the street with a little bit of a skip in his step.  He can see his breath mistily in the winter night.  The clouds cover the stars, but the moon shines dimly through the cloud cover.  This doesn’t matter to him, he thrives in the night… or rather, he can only exist in the night, as the light from the sun would be the end of him.
 
On a pleasant side note, Dysanders is quite pleased with the new overcoat he is wearing.  It is something of a greatcoat; hand stitched and custom made to fit his small frame.  Cars drive by at a dismal rate in this city of rain as he idly avoids the others who were walking on the same street, their heads down and collars upturned trying to keep out as much of the cold as possible. Truth be told, he is glad that he can rid himself of his old coat, it was nearing twenty years old. He had taken proper care of the old coat, but it was time for a little bit of a change.
 
Styles change, but in the last two hundred years the young neko hasn’t aged a day; not since he entered the world of darkness. In a single night, his entire family was slaughtered and bled dry. He had been ten then.  Some hundred years ago, he had given up changing with the rest of the world. He wore a long-tailed coat, vest, bow tie and undershirt with ruffled cuffs. A top hat and kid gloves completed the ensemble.
 
He strolls down the street leisurely as an impatient driver flies by him, splashing water onto his shoes and pants. “Hy, ye cheeky bastard. Come back here… Bloody hell.” he says shaking a gloved fist in the air. Over the years, some of his archaic habits hadn’t changed either.
 
The neko had dark blue-gray hair, cut in the almost-tamed style he’d become accustomed to, his emerald green eyes shone in the night as he stared after the offending driver. He stood little more than three-and-a-half feet, but that mattered not.
 
With a mischievous grin he began after the car slowly. To him it seemed that the world slowed around him as he walked menacingly after his assailant, walking alongside as if it were hardly moving faster than a casual stroll, and in the next moment, he was sitting alongside the driver.
 
As the driver finally notices Dysanders’s presence, he loses control of the car, careening into a nearby lamppost. Pedestrians scatter out of the way as the vehicle barrels towards them only to swear at the driver and continue walking, nonplussed, to wherever their intended destination had been before the car rudely interrupted their travels. Some furs made the excuse that the driver may be drunk; others simply thank their god that they were still alive. Still others didn’t even notice the event… unilaterally though, none of the of them do anything for the “poor” driver who ruthlessly decimated the innocent light pole. 
 
The force of the impact renders the driver unconscious, his head bleeding from the impact. “Pity,” Dysanders said sarcastically, bearing his fangs, and settling down for a long drink of the driver’s hot blood. The small vampire soon leaves the vehicle, and a shell of a body behind.
 
“Commoners don’t taste very good.” He makes a face in the general direction of the car before he turnes away. 
 
Dysanders turnes towards the park, and sits under a large oak, content in watching the other commoners and drunkards pass by. He can feel the cool water dripping down the brim of his hat as he sits, hardly noticing the fiery presence near to him.


 
2
 
 
"Fuck."

Shuffling through the cabinets, Sebastian makes a grim discovery at around two in the morning… It is terrible... just absolutely terrible! He was...he was...

OUT OF FUCKING CIGARETTES!
 
Sebastian lives in a quaint, if you could call dingy, rundown, disgusting, and generally unlivable, quaint, second-story apartment. His realtor had called it quaint, and from what he could tell, quaint simply meant tiny.
 
His “luxury suite” overlooked… well… nothing. His only window is mere feet from a brick wall and the only things adorning said wall are several pipes and a vent that did exactly that. When he first moved in he had thought it a good idea to open the window. Soon after, the vent started venting something that smelled like a mix of sewage and dishwater. To his immediate knowledge, the source of the vent, and what it connected to are still unknown to him (and several of the other tenants).
 
His bathtub is another “perk” the realtor was excited to mention to him… absolutely disgusting. He refuses to step foot into it, not that it would have mattered, being immune to all diseases. Still the thought of going near it turns his stomach… besides, he is quite certain that something has made its residence within the porcelain death-hole.


Rummaging through his belonging, he still came up in wont. In other words, he was still hopelessly out of his beloved cigarettes, and despite the fact that he hated being cliché, he needed them for his after dinner smoke. He couldn't eat with out them. It wouldn't have been so much of a problem if he weren’t hungry... but he hadn’t eaten almost three days… and he was.


Slipping into his back-less sneaks with a few choice curses under his breath, Bombay feline makes his way down to the streets from his second story flat, deciding to head down to the club scene and bum one or two cigarettes off someone. He didn't have much money left, and there weren't any stores open with in walking distance… well there were, but in the cold, he wasn’t willing to walk that distance when he could simply jack a couple off of the locals. Of course, it just HAD to start raining the second he made it onto the sidewalk.


"Fuck."

Scurrying along, shivering, as the cold drops soak through his thin clothes, Sebastian only happens to catch a glance of Dysanders by chance, but it must have been fate. If he had known the future he would have with the child he saw across the street then, he would have high tailed it out of there. But he was stupid, and curious, and wanted to know someone just slightly like himself....
 
The child was nonchalantly walking down the sidewalk until an unwitting motorist splashed some water up on to the curb hitting the lad. Sebastian hears a short stream of archaic cursing emanating from the being as he shakes his hand at the passing motorist angrily.
 
Sebastian blinks only to lose track of the kid and witness the motorist’s car make a dead-stop into a nearby light pole. Sebastian didn’t know how right he was… both about the “dead” and the “stop”, although not necessarily the one-in-the-same.
 
Soon after, he sees the small form of the child leave the vehicle and pass through the small crowd gathered there unnoticed. He begins walking towards the park and Sebastian unwittingly follows Dysanders.